


A Typical Sunday Night

by Laure Alexander (ladyoneill)



Series: The Alpha Series [52]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Bondage, F/M, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, Nudity, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-08 10:00:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1131290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyoneill/pseuds/Laure%20Alexander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A typical Sunday night for Spike: booze, Monty Python movies, hopefully sex with Dru.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Typical Sunday Night

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published on January 30, 2000 as a response to a challenge though I apparently didn't jot down any of the elements. Monty Python seems to have been one.

It was Sunday night, his night off. He'd insisted on a night off. If he was being forced to go against his nature and help the Slayer, he couldn't do it seven nights a week.

So, she'd kindly given him Sunday, making some snide comment on how it might be good for him to find spiritual peace.

He'd flipped her off and gotten drunk. Which was pretty much the normal mode for him these days: flipping off the Slayer, getting drunk a lot...

So, making himself comfortable in his comfy chair--having long since done away with all the bloody uncomfortable furniture left over from the poof's days in the mansion-- Spike picked up the remote control and turned on the television. Flipping to the Comedy Channel, he grinned in delight.

"Bring out your dead, bring out your dead, " sounded from the big screen tv, as Monty Python and Quest for the Holy Grail was playing. Setting down the remote, he picked up his bottle of beer--real beer from Germany, not that piss poor American crap--and took a swig.

The movie progressed as it tended to, and he laughed and drank, and by the time it got to 'Run away! Run away!' he was slightly pissed. Slumping in the chair, he said the lines along with the characters. "That rabbit's dynamite. Will it help to confuse it if we run away more. Shut up, and go and change your armor."

"Spike?" Drusilla called from the stairs. "I'm lonely."

"Yeah, yeah," he mumbled. "Holy hand grenade. Wonder if there really is something like that."

Suddenly a pale, very naked figure stepped in front of the screen. "Ooh, look at the big bunny." Drusilla turned, smiling, her body glistening with moisture as she was straight from her bath. In one hand she carried a rather bedraggled stuffed rabbit. "Does it want to be friends with mister bun bun?"

"Dru, where are your clothes?" Spike asked, trying to peer around her at the action on the screen.

"They're all scared."

Spike sighed. It was going to be one of *those* nights. He finished off his eighth beer and gave up on the end of the movie, switching off the television set. "Scared of what?"

"Your evil plaid pants," Drusilla whispered conspiratorially.

Spike stared at her, then sighed. "What evil plaid pants? I don't own any plaid pants. I wouldn't be caught dead in plaid pants."

"Maybe they were daddy's and he left them behind."

"Daddy would never be caught dead in plaid pants, either."

Drusilla reached down and grabbed his arm, tugging on him until he stumbled to his feet. "You've been drinking," she scolded.

"No shit."

She scowled even more at his cursing, her whole naked body taking on a prim and proper attitude. "I shall have daddy wash your mouth out with soap."

"Yeah, you do that, luv. And, I'll tell him that you keep showing your tits to that idiot, Harris."

"He, at least, notices them." She swept past him and back up the stairs, yelling, "I don't like you anymore. You're mean."

Spike debated for a full two minutes over whether or not to follow her, finally grabbing a bottle of whisky and plopping back into his chair. Pulling the lever, he made it recline and pulled out the foot rest. He turned on the television and crowed. "History of the World Part I."

Half the whisky was gone by the time the movie had reached the Spanish Inquisition part, and he sang along off key to the song. "The inquisition, what a show, the inquisition, here we go..."

His singing was interrupted by a frying pan hitting him on the head, knocking him unconscious.

*****

Spike awakened to a splitting headache and the instant realization that he was tied spread eagled to his bed. The stuffed bunny was sitting on his chest, its eyes plucked out. He pulled on the chains and the bunny slid down to his crotch.

That's when he realized he was naked.

"Bad bunny. You shall have no cakes," Drusilla scolded. Spike craned his head to look at her over by the wardrobe. She wore a pair of skin tight, blue and black plaid capri pants and a black sports bra.

"Drusilla," Spike growled. "What are you doing?"

"The pants told me to do it." She turned this way and that way, sticking her hips out, modeling the pants. "They were mine, after all." Sashshaying over to the bed, she plucked the bunny off his private parts and gave him a wicked grin. "I like you all tied up, Spike."

He pulled impotently on the chains, glowering at her. "Why did you have to hit me over the head?"

"To have my wicked way with you, silly." Jumping on the bed, she straddled his hips and covered his mouth with hers.

*****

Much later, Spike lay in an exhausted heap beneath his dark goddess. He was unchained, but unable to move any part of his body, so his arms lay sprawled out on either side of him. Drusilla finally roused herself, cooed his name, then rolled to his side. Sliding under the blankets, she fluffed up her pillows, then reclined back against the headboard and picked up her book, some dry history of the Donner Party.

Finally, Spike managed to bring his addled, still slightly drunken mind under control and asked, "Dru? Why were the pants evil?"

"Well, the church says sex is evil, so when the pants told me to have sex with you..."

"Oh." Mentally Spike shrugged as he picked up the remote control for the television in the bedroom. He grinned weakly at the beginning of Spaceballs, then curled up against his princess. Evil plaid pants...Well, he got mind blowing sex out of it, so who was he to complain?

End


End file.
